Devil's Backbone
by Grand Master Thief
Summary: The world went crazy after the outbreak. Friend ate friend, brother ate brother. It was absolutely chaotic. With faith slowly dying, Dani fights for her continued survival, hoping to find her baby brother before time runs out. When an unlikely group of people stumble into her life, they might just be answer to survival in this brave new world. Post season 2. {Eventual Daryl/OFC}.
1. Prologue

**Author Note:** Hello everyone, this is my very first Walking Dead fanfiction so I hope I don't do too horribly. I'm very excited about this particular story and I hope you all will enjoy it. It's unbeta-ed for now but I'm currently looking into getting one. This is more a prologue of sorts as well as a gauge to see how interested people are. Constructive criticism is more than welcome. This is the first OFC I've made in many, many years and I want to avoid a Mary-Sue at all costs. I've created a profile for Dani, you can find it on my profile if you're interested. Anyway, enjoy~

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><p><strong>Chapter 00<strong>

They are everywhere.

Dani runs as fast as her legs can carry her, dodging and twisting whenever they get too close. Her shoes slap against the concrete and her lungs feel like they're about to burst. Stopping isn't an option. She needs to keep moving if she wants to survive. She knows first-hand what happens when they get a hold of something. She refuses to end up like Mrs. Garfield, torn to shreds and choking on her own blood, eaten alive by freaks.

They amble after her with wet, gurgling growls. Dani is compact, giving her the advantage of speed. She skids around a sharp corner, heart pounding like a war drum. Everything hurts. She races toward the parking garage, doing her best to ignore her screaming body. If she makes it to her car, she'll be safe. She knows it. Then she can get the hell out of dodge.

The swarm behind her grows, the ones nearby stirring into action. They form a massive cloud of snapping jaws and angry howls. Fear pumps through her veins and motivates her to push harder, forcing already exhausted muscles into overdrive. She flies across the pavement, eating up the distance between her and salvation. The world around her blurs. Her vision tunnels, black and fuzzy around the edges.

A heavy side door leading to the parking garage is straight ahead. It's so close she can taste it.

'_Just a little bit more…_' she thinks, quickly glancing over her shoulder. The swarm is a pulsating mass of hunger, always somehow keeping up with her. '_Shit!_'

Dani swivels, throwing herself the last few feet. Her shoulder slams into the door, her bones shudder on impact. Pain blooms hot and sudden but there's no time to worry about it. She wrenches the handle. The door refuses to budge.

"Come on," she pleads. "Please, don't do this."

A peek back shows that they're only a few feet away. Wild desperation turns her gut and she starts banging on the metal, nails trying to pry the door open. She trembles. Tears start to build behind her eyes. It can't end like this. Not after everything she's done to survive.

"Goddamn it, open up!"

She kicks out a foot in her anger. Thinking quickly, Dani wraps both hands around the knob. She digs her feet onto the side of the building one at a time until she's horizontal. Pushing off, she uses her weight and the building for leverage and tugs back as hard as she can. The metal groans in protest. She pulls again but something goes wrong and her grip falters. She slips, back crashing into the unforgiving ground. All the air rushes from her lungs and leaves her gasping.

'_This is it, I'm going to die,_' she thinks. '_Torn apart by drooling freaks…_'

The sound of grating metal makes her snap to attention. With wide, hopeful eyes she watches as the door slowly creaks open before getting stuck. The space is barely big enough to fit a small child, let alone a grown woman but that won't stop her. She'll make herself fit.

Scrambling to her feet, Dani rushes to the door. She slips off her backpack and stuffs it in through the crack. They are nearly on top of her. Taking a deep breath, she slots herself sideways, shimmying. The chilly metal bites into her back.

She sucks in her stomach, using her arms to pull herself through. When half of her body is sandwiched between the door and wall, she gets gets caught. Cursing, she leans in and shoves with her thigh, hoping gravity will help her out. The swarm starts to crowd outside, the fetid smell of death impregnating the air.

Dani gags on the stench, throat burning as her hands claw at the wall. She jerks her body forward. She's almost there…

One of them breaks rank, grabbing her arm and trying to take a large bite out of the flesh. She shrieks, lunging away from the gnashing teeth. Something gives and suddenly she's sliding into darkness. Lightning pain flares up her spine and down her leg. She falls on her bottom with a soft cry.

A desperate laugh burbles from her throat when she sees the sliver of light pouring in from outside. She makes it just in time. Furious snarls resound from outside and dozens of hands wedge themselves around the door, reaching for her. If she can barely fit through, they have no chances of getting in.

Dani flops on the floor. Her hands shake as she rubs them across her face, adrenaline pumping. The cool cement is a balm for her bruised body. Everything aches. Her back and thighs burn. Her stomach roils, she feels like she might pass out. But none of that matters because she's alive. Her lips twitch into an exhausted smile. She'll rest for a moment or two before finding her car.

They can't get in. She's safe.

The '_for now_' goes unsaid.


	2. Chapter 01

**AN:** Hello everyone, now the story officially begins~ I can't thank my friend Kiki enough for being a trial reader for this chapter as well as helping me out with editing. This chapter is only halfway beta-ed at the moment but once the rest is I'll be fixing it up. As for fixing up, I also went back and edited the prologue a little. It was nothing major but I wanted it to flow better so I added some things and took out others. For now, here's this. It was much prettier until destroyed my format. I hope you all enjoy~

**Warning(s)**: canon-type violence against walkers, language

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><p><strong>Chapter 01<strong>

**Several Months Later**

The last walker falls to the asphalt with a wet smack, forehead cleaved in half by a knife buried to the hilt. Gore dribbles from its maw and brain matter smears across the ground behind its head. The stench of rot fills the air. Buzzing flies create a constant hum of background noise.

For all the silence the apocalypse brings, this brave new world is just as noisy. Instead of trains, planes, and cars there is now the never ending moans and shuffles of the undead. In place of horns there are violent screams. The world is one big reminder of what life has become. Death surrounds them at every turn.

They can never escape.

Rick rolls his shoulders, yanking the knife out with a squelch. Thick, black blood clings to the worn blade like cellophane. He wipes off the decay on his pant leg with a grimace. The putrid smell hardly bothers him anymore. He remembers back when he first woke up, his nose burned and his eyes watered, stomach churning. He gagged and almost vomited down the front of his hospital gown. Now, he doesn't bat an eyelash. The constant smell of decay is just a part of life.

"Is that all of 'em?" he asks, blue eyes like chips of ice as he scouts the area.

Winter creeps in slowly, hoarfrost crystallizing the grass. The days become cold and short, the nights longer and colder still. They can't keep traveling like they have. It's suicide. With Lori pregnant and the lack of proper winter gear, they're just asking for it. Frostbite settles in quick and quiet. It will pick them off one by one before they can even stop it.

They need to find a place to hunker down, somewhere safe where they can ride out the winter. It's easier said than done. Last time they got comfortable somewhere 'safe,' they almost lost everyone. Rick will not let that happen a second time. He doesn't think he would be able to take it. Not again, not after they've already lost so much. He doesn't have any other parts left of himself to give away. He is stretched thin, hanging on by a fraying thread.

"Yeh, ain't no more left," Daryl replies. "We cleaned 'im out."

He swings his crossbow up and over his shoulder, shifting the strap so it won't pull on his poncho. With the creeping cold coming on, he wears it during the day too. He settles beside Rick, gazing out at the dying land. The trees stand against a backdrop of the slate grey sky, grotesque husks with gnarled limbs that remind them of their bleak future.

"We can' keep doin' this," he says. "'Fore long it's gonna be too cold out ta move. Gotta fin' somewhere safe, lay low 'til it starts gettin' warm again."

His eyes slide back to the group behind them pointedly. Lori is huddled together with Carol, Beth, and Maggie for warmth. She's wearing a thin jacket, heavy bags resting beneath her eyes. Her baby bump looks more pronounced against her too thin frame. It's unhealthy for her and the baby. She's the most vulnerable one in the group right now. If they can't find somewhere soon, they run the risk of losing the both of them.

"She can' take much more o' this. You know tha' right?"

Rick sighs, running a frustrated hand over his jaw. He's aware of how weak Lori is. Something needs to be done before he loses them both. They eat barely enough to feed one person, let alone two. All the moving around is adding to her stress; hoping from house to house, always on the run. It's wearing them down to the bone. A solid home for the rest of winter would be the break they need. Lori would get a chance to rest and it would allow everyone else time to recuperate. There is no time to mourn their losses that are slowly piling up. They haven't stopped running since the farm turned to ash, haven't been given the opportunity to be human again in a long time. It's all been about survival until now.

"I know, I know," Rick mumbles, scratching at his beard. "I jus'...I dunno where such a place would exist, let alone how we'd get there. We're runnin' out of time."

Daryl watches their leader in contemplative silence.

"What 'bout further up north? Area's more rural, migh' be some cabin or somethin'."

'_It's not a bad idea but can we really make the journey?_' Rick thinks, gazing at the exhausted faces looking to him for answers. They're already low on food and fuel as it is. These people trust him with their survival. He can't put that in jeopardy. Are the risks really worth it? '_It's our best shot._'

"Alright everyone, listen up!" Rick says. He slips into his role, face stern. Everyone pauses their conversations to listen. "We're goin' further north, gonna find a place to hole up for the winter."

No one challenges him even though he can see a few of them disagree with his decision. They murmur their agreement, getting ready to continue moving. He sees Daryl nod his head in approval out of the corner of his eye, before moving over to his motorcycle.

"Saddle up, we leave in five!"

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><p>By the time they reach the outskirts of a little town near Heard, night starts to settle in cold and black, and they can't keep moving. They'd only get lost or worse. They find an empty farming field and set up camp. A while back they found a few tents and extra blankets. There aren't enough for everyone so most nights they share. With the cold months coming, no one really finds any reason to complain. Forced cuddling means more body heat to keep warm through the night.<p>

As an extra precaution they park the cars in a circle around the tents like a caravan, providing a second line of defense in case anything happens. Because they have no other option but to camp out in the open, Rick instates a three-man watch for the duration of the night. The first shift is made up of Rick, Glenn, and Hershel.

When the night is half way over, Daryl, Maggie, and Carol take over until daybreak.

Daryl is one of the most skilled fighters in camp and Rick does his best to make sure that at least one of them is on a shift at any time. If there is anyone in their little group that Rick trusts completely, its Daryl. He knows the hunter would give up his life to protect them.

Before watch begins, they all sit around a low fire, scraping canned beans into their mouths. Not everyone gets enough, they'd only found two cans earlier in the day, so they take a few bites each and pass it around the circle.

Rick can't help but notice that they let Lori take the most from the can. His heart aches in his chest, watching as _his_ people starve themselves for the baby. The thought that he can't provide enough for them leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He vows that once they get to safety they won't have to go hungry again. He swears on his life, he will make this right. They're his to protect and provide for.

He's their leader. He won't fail them, not again.

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><p>Night passes without a hitch, the watch effectively keeping away any walkers that came near. With morning comes a wind that chills everyone to the bone, the sun peeking over the horizon and chasing away the black darkness. Lattices of frost cover the outside of their tents and windshields. When they talk in hushed murmurs, they can see their breath.<p>

Everyone is awake and curling around a fire by the time the sun fully rises, packed close to conserve body heat. They pass around the last can of beans they had, again letting Lori consume most of it.

It's the look on Carl's face that gets Daryl the most. Since they haven't been able to eat a proper meal in weeks, his once chubby face is all sharp angles and hard planes. His skin is stretched tight over his cheeks. His eyes look too big for his face. When he looks around, the same expression is reflected on everyone's face.

Determined, he tosses down the stick he'd used to stoke the fire. He grabs up his crossbow and slings it over his back, adjusting the poncho until it covers the tops of his arms. Everyone pauses what their doing to look at him curiously.

He frowns, nodding over to where Rick is standing guard.

"'m gonna go talk to 'im."

Rick's back is turned away from the group, scrutinizing the landscape. Daryl knows the man isn't actually keeping watch. They're well protected from walkers in this field and the cold slows them down even more. Rick is avoiding Lori and everything she makes him feel. He's avoiding watching his people starve themselves for his sake. He's avoiding the guilt he feels that he can't provide for them.

Rick's a good leader, a good man. He can't change the fact that the world's shit, that they raid house after house and only turn up a few cans of food for all their trouble. He feels like it's his fault when Daryl knows it's not. He doesn't say that though. He would never say that kind of emotional garbage to Rick. It won't do them any good getting sentimental. What they need is action.

He stops next to the still man, staring ahead and pretending he sees what the other man does. It's silent between them for long moments before Daryl decides to break it.

"There ain't no food left," he says, feeling Rick tense beside him. "Ate the last can o' beans this mornin'."

A scowl settles across Rick's face, eyes angry and dark with an emotion Daryl doesn't recognize. The closest thing he can describe it as is resentment.

"I know," Rick replies.

"We're gon' have ta make a run."

The muscles in Rick's jaw jump.

"I know."

Daryl stops pretending to help watch out for walkers, turning to the leader of their little rag-tag group. He keeps his face blank, trying not to set the man off anymore than he already is. Wanting to show his support, but not one for physical touches much, he quickly claps a hand to Rick's shoulder before pulling away.

Rick turns to him, a storm brewing in his gaze. His face is pinched, mouth pulled down and brows furrowed.

"Let me go huntin'," Daryl says. "I can bag us a couple o' squirrels, maybe a rabbit or two. Maybe even a deer. We'd have food for a couple a weeks if we conserved 'em."

"We stick together," Rick responds, voice booking no room for arguments. "Trouble happens when we're separated. I'm keepin' y'all safe."

Daryl shrugs a shoulder, glancing back at the group huddling around the fire. Rick follows his gaze and swallows hard. He didn't want to see the looks on their faces, didn't want to see the hunger. He looks away just as quickly.

"I know tha' but we need the food 'n I can get it for us. I know how ta take care a myself, ya know tha'. I won't be gon' more than a couple a hours."

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Rick sighs and resumes watching the field for signs of walkers. Everything inside him is screaming, telling him they stay together as a group. It's how they survive.

'_We won't be survivin' much longer without food_,' he thinks darkly, mind flashing to the hungry expression on Carl's face, how thin everyone's gotten.

Daryl waits in silence for Rick's verdict, a constant presence at the other man's right side.

Eventually, Rick gives in. He doesn't like it but Daryl has a point. It goes against everything he's worked so hard to achieve, letting him break off from the group. It's like Daryl said though, they need the food and the hunter is more than capable of defending himself if he needs to.

"Alright, don't go too far from camp."

Darly nods, turning around to make his way out of the circle of cars when Rick's hand closes around his forearm. Stopping, Daryl turns and takes note of the serious expression on the leader's face.

"You come back by twilight."

"I can do tha'."

"I mean it, Daryl."

"Yeah, yeah Officer Friendly, don' worry. 'm not goin' no where. I'll be back 'fore ya know it."

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><p>Daryl kneels in a patch of trampled grass, rubbing the cracked dirt between his fingers. His eyes expertly pick up the tracks left behind by his prey. He's tracking a limping doe, been following her for a couple of hours now. Soon they would bed down and he'd have his chance.<p>

There will be enough meat for everyone. They'll finally all have a proper meal in their bellies before they keep moving. He crouches low, moving forward slowly. The herd is straight ahead, grazing in a small meadow. Nocking an arrow, he lines the scope with the doe.

She's on the outside of the herd, already bedding down, one of her forelegs spread out before her. He's assuming that's the one she hurt. She lowers her head periodically to munch on grass, ears flicking to and fro.

Ever since childhood, when he first held a bow in his hands, his daddy taught him to honor every part of his kill. It's about the only good thing his daddy ever taught him and it's a practice he still holds to this day. Once he skins and guts her, he'll use every part he can, leaving behind a part of the meat and bone to show his gratitude for her sacrifice.

Inhaling slowly, Daryl shifts and sets his finger against the trigger, ready to pull. He's about to press down when twigs start snapping to the left of him. The deer catch the noise, spooked. They bolt from the meadow and he loses his chance as the doe gets away.

Cursing, he whips around and aims his crossbow toward the sound. He holds his breath and waits for whatever is coming his way, more twigs snapping and leaves rustling. Whatever it is, they sure as hell don't know how to walk quietly through the woods.

'_Probably a walker,'_ he thinks, scowling. '_Damn bastard made me lose our lunch_.'

Daryl freezes when instead of a walker stumbling out of the underbrush, a woman does. She's muttering to herself, hands flapping in front of her body. She's a tall, willowy thing. Her hair is a mess, smears of dirt painting her face and arms. She's packing some heat. There's a pistol in its holster at her hip and a hunting knife is strapped to her thigh.

He crawls forward silently, assessing her. She doesn't look like she could do much but he knows looks can be deceiving. Judging by her weapons, this girl knows her way around a fight. His position goes unnoticed by her.

'_Not a very good hun'er then_,' he muses.

He's nearly right behind her before she even thinks that something is wrong. As soon as she notices him, he springs up to his feet. She pedals backward in surprise, hand shooting down to grapple with the gun holster.

"Wouldn' do tha' if I was you."

Daryl draws his crossbow up, keeping the woman within his sight. His finger rests against the trigger, ready to pull if she poses any threat. She stops her fumbling with a frown.

She eyes him warily, gaze darting from his face, down to his weapon and back again. Her shoulders are hunched, not out of fear he notices, but more for preparation. She's gearing up to defend herself, legs apart and hand resting on the pistol at her hip.

She'll be dead with a bolt between her eyes before she can so much as twitch a finger, and they both know it. He's not taking any chances. It would seem neither is she. A predator recognizes another predator willing to do anything to survive and come out the victor.

He gives her an A for effort. But if it comes down to it, he's the one who will win this fight. Her brow wrinkles in displeasure, hip cocking to the side. Her eyes burn through him.

"Who the hell are you?" she demands.

They circle each other like vultures, trying to scope out any visible weaknesses. Its a strange, exciting dance. It's been a long time since someone living went toe to toe with him. A surge of defiance wells inside him.

He shoots the question right back at her. "Who the hell are _you_?"

She snorts, rolling her eyes. She shakes her head and a wreath of brown-black hair billows behind her. Her hand doesn't relax its position but she seems less edgy. She unfurls her shoulders, standing tall. Her reaction settles him enough that he lowers his bow, no longer pointing it at her head. It rests against his thigh. He will be able to pull it up easily if she attacks.

"I asked you first," she replies childishly. "And considering you're on my land, I think I deserve an answer."

"Your land?" He raises a brow, a sardonic smirk curling up the corner of his mouth. He gestures a hand to the forest around them. "Pretty sure tha' shit don' matter now tha' the world ended, in case ya didn' notice."

A scowl forms on her pretty mouth, expression sour. Her hand drops away from her pistol. She takes a step closer to him and his fingers twitch, fighting the instinctive urge to whip up the crossbow and pull the trigger. She ignores his reaction, invading his personal space until they're nose to nose. They're so close he can see faint freckles dusting her nose. Her little face glares up at him.

"Listen here, Redneck," she says, irritation boiling beneath the surface. She pokes a hard fingertip into his collarbone. "I don't care who you think you are, but this **is** my land, end of the world or not, and I don't appreciate smart asses like you trespassing."

Holding back a scoff, Daryl stands his ground, refusing to be the first to back down. He stares down at her with hard eyes. She's at least a foot shorter, the top of her head stopping somewhere around his chin. For such a small thing she sure puts up plenty of fight.

"Don' be gettin' yer panties in a twist, Girl," he rumbles, leaning his head down so they're eye to eye. "I weren' tryin' ta trespass, ya know? Didn' know someone were already livin' here."

She seems less than pleased by his response, spitting hellfire with her unwavering gaze. She refuses to back down until she gets an answer. Amused, he chuckles and shakes his head. This girl is something else, that's for sure. This waif of a girl, thinking she has a chance fighting him off if he decides to try something (which he won't but she doesn't know that). He doesn't doubt that she'd spit and claw with everything she has. He's gotta admit, she's got balls, standing up to a strange grown man that could knock her on her ass easily.

"Yer a lil' spitfire, ain't ya?"

She ignores his comment, feet shuffling. She's uncomfortable with how close they are but she isn't going to let him think he wins. Breathing in deeply, she squares her shoulders and meets him head on.

"Then why are you skulking around my woods?"

"I was huntin', got a group a ways back. We're needin' food somethin' awful."

Her entire stance shifts, she rolls back on the balls of her feet. The flesh of her bottom lip is sucked into her mouth and worried by her teeth. Her brows furrow, eyes flitting around them nervously. A feeling of unease trickles down her spine. She won't be able to fight off all of them if they decide to take what she has.

"H-How many in your group?" Her voice is high and squeaky, betraying how she feels about the situation.

Daryl picks up on the shift in her mood. She looks on edge again but this time for a completely different reason. He can see the thoughts spinning around inside her head. He does his best to reassure her in his own, gruff way.

"We ain' gon' hurt you none. We ain' like tha'."

She gives a stiff nod, scratching at her arm absentmindedly. She doesn't exactly trust that they won't try anything based solely on his words but for now she doesn't really have a choice. Not until she knows what she's dealing with.

"And how many of you are there?" she asks.

Daryl scrubs a hand across his jaw, studying her with cool eyes. He doesn't know if he should tell her, doesn't know if Rick'd want him to. In the end, Rick isn't here and if him sharing basic information about their group that anyone could find out for themselves calms her down, he figures there isn't too much of a problem.

"Well, there's 'bout nine of us," he says, pausing. Usually he avoids being manipulative, leaves a bad taste in his mouth, this information might help them out right now though. Maybe she'd let him keep hunting until he brought back a couple of small game. "An' in a couple o' months there'll be ten."

Her eyes pop open wide and her jaw drops a little. He can't seriously be saying what she thinks he is. She looks at him in stunned silence.

He looks back with a smirk, amused as he teases her. "Migh' wanna keep yer trap shut, don' want no flies gettin' in."

"Are you -" She stops, balking at the idea of a baby being forced to live this type of life. "Is there really a pregnant woman in your group?"

Daryl inclines his head.

"An' a couple other kids too."

"Oh my god, that's - that's terrible!"

"Not much ta be don' 'bout it," he replies, shrugging a shoulder. The world is an ugly, cruel place. The strong survive and the weak die. It's a fact. "It's how things are now."

Her heart aches in her chest. Those poor children, always scared, always running…

She wars with herself, knowing she shouldn't. She really shouldn't but she can't just leave them to fend for themselves. They have a pregnant woman and children. The world is a cruel, harsh place. They'll live a short, painful life before being torn to shreds. In good conscience she can't stand by and let that happen, especially with winter coming soon. They'd freeze to death.

"I'm so going to regret this," she mutters, running an agitated hand through her tangled locks. Her eyes flick up to his for a brief moment before dropping back down to the ground. Mind made up, she sighs in defeat. "I have a cabin, it's safe and secure. It's just a little further up that hill, surrounded by trees."

"An'?"

"And I've got enough food for everyone. It isn't right for a pregnant woman and

children to be out there with those freaks."

"Wha' are ya tryin' ta say, Girl?"

"I'm saying that your group are more than welcome to stay with me…"

Daryl's brows raise in surprise before he quickly becomes suspicious. No one is generous anymore, not out of the goodness of their heart. They always want something in return. She's no different from anyone else.

"Why would you let us stay wit' ya?" he asks, warily. His hand tightens around the handle of his crossbow. "You don' know us."

"You're right, I don't," she agrees. "But I can't just go back knowing that women and children are in danger and I didn't do anything to try and stop it."

He shoots her a disbelieving glare.

"I know you don't have any reason to trust me -"

"Yer damn right I don'."

"But my offer still stands. Go back and talk with your group, see what they say." She moves back, starting to move back the way she came. Her conscience is clear, she offered them safety. Now it is up to them if they take it or leave it. "I'll be back at the cabin if you decide to stay. The front yard is booby trapped so watch your step. Knock on the door three times and I'll let you in."

"If you try somethin' I won' hesitate," he says, voice hard and low as he gestures to the weapon in his hand. "I'll kill ya m'self."

She rolls her eyes, lips quirking into a small smile.

'_Men_,' she thinks with a mental snort. '_It's always a pissing contest with them_.'

"Yeah, yeah Rambo. I get it. Just go talk to your group already." She turns around, walking up the hill without sparing him a glance backward.

Daryl watches her until she disappears into the woods, mind spinning at the turn of events. Would they really have gotten so lucky as to find a place to stay for the winter?

'_Well, shit_,' he thinks, inspecting the area for walkers before making his way back to camp with some good news, for once. Their food is lost but to make up for it, they have some place safe to lay low now. '_Rick's gon' flip_.'


End file.
